_Mont._ I tell thee, youth, Our souls are parched with agonising thirst, Which must be quenched though death were in the draught: We must have vengeance, for our foes have left No other joy unblighted. _Pro._ O, my son! The time has passed for such high dreams as thine: Thou knowest not whom we deal with. We must meet Falsehood with wiles, and insult with revenge. And, for our names--whate'er the deeds by which We burst our bondage--is it not enough That, in the chronicle of days to come, We, through a bright "For ever," shall be called The men who saved their country. _Raim._ Many a land Hath bowed beneath the yoke, and then arisen, As a strong lion rending silken bonds, And on the open field, before high heaven, Won such majestic vengeance as hath made Its name a power on earth. _Mon._ Away! when thou dost stand On this fair earth as doth a blasted tree, Which the warm sun revives not, _then_ return Strong in thy desolation; but till then, Thou art not for our purpose;--we have need Of more unshrinking hearts. _Raim._ Montalba! know, I shrink from crime alone. Oh! if my voice Might yet have power among you, I would say, Associates, leaders, _be_ avenged! but yet As knights, as warriors! _Mon._ Peace! Have we not borne Th'indelible taint of contumely and chains? We are _not_ knights and warriors: Our bright crests Have been defiled and trampled to the earth. Boy! we are slaves--and our revenge shall be Deep as a slave's disgrace. _Raim._ Why, then, farewell: I leave you to your counsels. What proud hopes This hour hath blighted!--yet, whate'er betide, It is a noble privilege to look up Fearless in heaven's bright face--and this is mine, And shall be still. [Exit. Our other extract is from a later scene in the drama, which we think very happily conceived. Raimond, accused of treachery, and condemned to die by his own father, is in chains and in prison. The day of his execution has arrived, but the Sicilians are called on to give battle before their gates; he is left alone, respited, or rather forgotten, for the present. His alternation of feeling, as he at first attempts to respond to the consolations of the priest Anselmo, and then, on hearing of the battle that is being fought for his country, breaks out into all that ardent love of glory, which was the main passion of his soul, is very admirably expressed. _Ans._ But thou, my son! Is thy young spirit mastered, and prepared For nature's fearful and mysterious change?